Why Do I Always Fall for Reptiles?
by SophiaTab
Summary: I spent the weekend rewatching the old V-series and this came out of my mind. Ham Tyler was an intriguing bad boy and I don't think the series ever properly addressed the implications of Robin killing Bryan,  This is my imaginative take on the aftermath.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Robin Maxwell was use to living in fear. Now she was terrified. Their shuttlecraft had gone down deep in Visitor occupied territory. And it all happened so fast! They had barely made it away from the crash site when a Visitor patrol emerged. One minute she was staring at the dead pilot; then Ham Tyler grabbed her and they were running, no he was dragging her, into the forest deep past the sunlight and into the darkness. She didn't know how far they ran, but her sides ached when they finally stopped. Her breath came in gulps, snot filled her nostrils, and she was suddenly cold from air hitting her sweat soaked body. She took a tissue from her pocket, blew her nose, and then realized her suitcase and her purse had been left at the crash site. She had nothing except the clothes on her back!

Ham slumped down at the base of a tree. His face was scarlet, but his breath was more normal. She didn't see anybody else. "Should we go back?"

He shook his head.

"But what about Chris? He's your partner." She said.

"Chris knows how to take care of himself. With only two of us and three pistols, there's nothing, but death back there."

Three pistols? What was he talking about? She didn't even have a knife.

Ham pulled a handgun out of his boot. "Put this in your jacket pocket and keep your hand on it at all times."

She nodded. No problem, he was definitely her best, probably only, chance for survival. He stood up and wiped his face on his sleeve. She noticed he had been calm enough at the crash to grab a backpack. Of course, he had no doubt survived crashes before this. "Do you know where we are?"

"A few miles outside of Tucson," he replied.

"There's an Air Force Base near Tucson," she heard herself saying. What a stupid remark. Of course, that base was no longer there.

Ham looked like he wanted to laugh at her, but he wouldn't waste the energy right now. "All the flyboys are dead. They got shot down and eaten. But hopefully some of the Resistance I know is still there." He checked a compass; then held out his hand to help her up. "Come on. We got to get moving."

Tucson looked like any Visitor occupied area she had ever seen in surveillance video. The streets were clean, but many were blocked off by chain link and barbwire. Propaganda posters covered the walls of many buildings. In LA, they would have been defaced even if they were only a few hours old, but here they were fresh and shiny. She recognized some of the designs from the first Visitor occupation. Did the Visitors think people would still fall for those lies? Anything was possible. There were kids on the street wearing Visitor youth uniforms. Ham steered her far away from them. He probably realized she wouldn't be able to control her shaking. They went deep into what had to have been the worst side of town even before the Visitor's came. Ham finally stopped at a bar named the Yellow Snake. It was a dead ringer for the bar in every bad after school special she had ever watched.

"I'm looking for William Bonny III," Ham told the bartender.

"And you are?" the bartender asked without looking up.

"Tell him the Fixer's come out from LA. He'll recognize the name." Ham replied.

When the bartender went into the back, Ham immediately turned to her. "You're going to be very scared for a few minutes. Keep your mouth shut."

A bag was shoved over her head. Someone grabbed both her arms and she felt a gun barrel at her back. They were dragged away, down a flight of stairs and through some corridors. Soon she could no longer hear the sound of the bar. It was getting hard to breathe and whoever was escorting her had way too grabby hands. He squeezed her breasts and she wanted to scream and kick him, but Ham was right. They needed the local Resistance if they were going to survive. At least she managed to shake him off when they finally stopped.

She heard of voice like a Hispanic accent mixed with a drawl. "The man you asked for is already dead."

"How many did he take with him?" Ham answered.

"How many do you think?" the voice asked.

"Enough to make leather boots for every biker north of the border," Ham replied.

There was a lot of laughter. "Ham Tyler, you son-of-bitch, how did you survive this long?" It sounded like Ham and the other man were patting each other on the back.

"Bad attitude," she heard Ham reply. Then he lifted the bag off her head. The room was smoky and the only light was pointed directly at them. At the fringes, she could see some of the men. They were real bikers, tattooed and scarred, not the frat boy, salon-perm motorcycle enthusiast type Kyle Bates was. Body odor hung in the room. Before the war these men had probably all been criminals. She was fairly certain the blonde biker standing too close to her was the one that molested her earlier. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and moved closer to Ham. Then she got a good look at the man Ham had embraced. He was wearing a vest of what could have been alligator skin, but was more likely . . . .! She forced herself not vomit. She hated the Visitors, hated them, wanted most of them dead and destroyed, or at least off her planet. She had killed Bryan, up close and personal, with revenge boiling in her veins. But to wear Visitors' skin? It wasn't like leather or fur. The Visitors were thinking beings. It was a life that was most often her enemy, but still a life perhaps somehow with a soul made in the image of its form of god. To wear their skin like clothing seemed as bad as doing the same with a human being.

Ham had an arm around the man. He looked happy if that expression could be applied to Ham. "This is Chuy Hernandez. He use to be the best enforcer in the Seguin cartel."

Chuy hugged Ham. "And this is _mi hermano_, Ham Tyler! No man has killed as many lizards as him!"

The blonde biker leered in her direction. "Who is the gash?"

He meant her. Gash? How disgustingly crude? Ham's expression changed. His gaze oozed malice. "My old lady."

The blonde biker turned white.

The bikers gave them a room with a bed and a bathroom. Actually, it was probably somebody else's room that had been temporarily vacated. The walls were covered with posters of airbrushed centerfolds and tricked out Harley motorcycles, but it was surprisingly clean.

"I'll sleep on the floor," Ham said.

"What if somebody sees you there?" she asked.

"We lock the door before going to sleep," he replied.

Well, at least he didn't add a sarcastic Duh, to the end of his reply. Actually she probably shouldn't have expected that from Ham. Not that they spent a lot of time together, but he had never been condescending to her like some LA Resistance men. Most times they treated her like some helpless little woman that couldn't do anything for herself. The ones that weren't condescending could be even worse. Usually they were flirtatious until they found out she was the Robin Maxwell that got impregnated by a lizard and gave birth to the Star-Child. Once that revelation came out everything changed. Most kept their distance. A few had called her a Visitor–whore as if what had happened was her fault. And the even smaller percentage that didn't despise her for Elizabeth, they freaked when they found out what happened to Bryan.

Ham tossed her a T-shirt from his pack. "Here. Wash out your underclothes and sleep in this."

She had another nightmare about Bryan. This time he was raping her again only his fake face shredded as she tried to fight him off. If only she had the courage to do that before. She woke up in a panic. Strong arms surrounded her and she was pressed against a warm, but very masculine chest.

"Sh, calm down. It's only a dream."

He had a gentle voice. She had never seen this part of Ham Tyler. Probably few people had. The man that usually frightened her now held her as calmly as Willie would after she had nightmares. He didn't let her go even when she started crying. And when she pulled away his shoulder was soaked.

"I've got vodka," he said.

She shook her head. "I can't drink strong alcohol."

"I'll dilute it with water and lemonade mix," he offered.

She nodded. He got up from the bed and returned a few minutes later with a cup of yellow liquid.

"Lynchburg lemonade," he said handing it to her.

It was good like the lemonade she associated with childhood summers, but it left mild warmth in her stomach. "Thanks," she said.

"No problem," Ham replied.

She had to say more. "I mean thanks for everything. Thanks for saving my neck when the shuttle crashed and for saving who knows what else when we made contact with these guys. And thanks for trying to get me to Chicago even though I am the most whiny, spoiled brat in the entire LA resistance."

He gave her a half smile. "You had a soft life before the Visitors came. Most people did. But you are not as fragile as you think. A lot of women don't survive being raped. You did and you were raped by a lizard from another planet."

"At least, you believe I was raped.," she said.

He looked puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

She hadn't intended to expose so much, but once she started, it was hard to stop. The truth was she didn't have anyone to talk to about this. Sometimes she thought about trying to talk to Maggie Blodgett, but Maggie had her own crosses to bear. Julie was too busy and her romantic disasters certainly weren't appropriate conversation with her daughter. This probably wasn't an appropriate conversation to have with Ham Tyler either and it certainly wasn't a subject that would interest him, she suspected, but he was here and he hadn't told her to shut up. "When most men find out I knew Bryan so well before I got taken to the mother ship they think I deserved what happened. Or worse, they say what happened wasn't rape and that I was a really collaborator that got lucky because of Elizabeth."

He put his hands on her shoulders. "Anyone who tells you that rape was your fault is a jerk. You survived a monster."

"Most people don't think that about me," she admitted.

"I'm not most people," he said.

That was certainly the truth. She couldn't look at Ham Tyler without the expression tough as nails coming to mind. He didn't think she was fragile. That was something.

He kept on talking. "The way you dispatched Bryan was ice cold. Until I saw you had the Red Dust, I was half-convinced you were going to let him go. I can only imagine what he thought. Best played revenge I ever saw."

She was stunned. "How can you know that? The only person around when Bryan died was Elizabeth and she doesn't remember anything. Or at least, she says she doesn't remember anything." She had a horrible thought that Elizabeth had lied to spare her pain. Bryan's death was a burden she could not leave on her daughter's shoulders. "Has she told you she remembers something?"

"No," he said.

"Then how can you possibly know what I said to Bryan?" she asked.

Now he looked uncomfortable. Actually on another person she would read his expression as embarrassed, but Ham didn't get embarrassed. "I didn't know what you would do. I didn't know if we could trust Willie yet. I staked out the lab."

"Staked out the lab?"

"I stayed in that empty cell to the left of the tube. I rigged a few mirrors, so I would have an unobstructed view, standard surveillance tuff. The lizard didn't even know I was there. Once you dropped the Red Dust, I slipped out and doubled back through the kitchen. I figured it was your moment." He explained.

She understood. He had overheard her conversation with Bryan. He had listened to her conning Bryan into believing she was still the same stupid infatuated girl that believed all his lies. And he had watched her kill the father of her child. _Best played revenge I ever saw._ Even her father had been horrified over what she had done to Bryan. Robert Maxwell had told everyone she had been mentally distressed and wasn't responsible for her actions. But Ham knew the truth. It wasn't temporary insanity when she killed Bryan. She wanted the lying bastard to die. Ham had seen everything and he approved.

"I wanted him dead and I wanted him to know as he died that I was one that ended his life. I probably shouldn't have brought Elizabeth with me, but I wanted him to know she existed. I wanted him to think as he died that the only descendent he would ever have was her. Does that sound sick?"

"Not to me," he replied.

"Thanks," she held out her hand. He shook it. His hands were warmer than she had expected. Her whole body felt warmer from the touch. "My father said never to tell anyone about the night I killed Bryan. People would think I was crazy."

"Your father was a good man, but he lived in a world that doesn't exist anymore. It was dying before the Visitors came, but the invasion finished it off even faster," he said. He put his hands on her shoulders again. She felt a sudden shock from head to toe

"We were going to kill him. We grabbed him to test the Red Dust. What you did made it easier for Julie and Donovan and the rest. You did the right thing?" He said.

He surprised her at every turn. She had always known he wasn't a dumb brute. To do what he knew how to do required a lot of education, but this conversation revealed a depth to him that she had never suspected: a man who appreciated violence and understood human nature. "Willie once told me Bryan had never been a good officer. I think he was trying to explain that Bryan wasn't just a monster to me only."

"Bryan was probably a monster to his fellow reptiles. Arrogant officers usually are and he had the swagger of real jerk." Ham said.

"I always wondered if underneath his fake skin Bryan's lizard features were as attractive to Visitor females as his human face had been to human women," she said. "I never thought I was attractive. That's probably why it was so easy for Bryan to get to me."

He gave her that Ham Tyler look of condescending disbelief for the first time. "First time, I saw you, I thought you were a very pretty teenage girl. Jail bait in the world without the Visitors. At least a severe beating in the world we were living in."

"I looked like a beached whale when you met me. I was pregnant," Robin said.

"First time I saw you, I didn't know you were pregnant," he replied.

Curiosity sparked into a flame. "You remember the first time you saw me?"

"Yeah, it was an incident Donovan would have loved. You were with your sisters in the cafeteria. Your hair was still long and curly. I could tell how much you loved your sister by the work you were putting into tutoring them. I sat watching you and thought the reason I'm willing to die was that caring sisters deserved a better fate than being eaten by lizards from another planet."

His eyes had changed from granite to something softer while he told her that story. It made her stomach tumble. She wasn't prepared to see Ham Tyler as anything other than indestructible rock.

"And when you found out I was pregnant?" she asked.

His voice was different. There was still the deepness she associated with Ham Tyler, but something else too "I wondered who your man was. I thought I might have to keep an eye on some pimple-faced teenage Resistance fighter, so the girl in the cafeteria wouldn't be wracked with grief. And then I noticed you didn't have a ring. I wondered if the father was dead or taken by the Visitors or was he just a jerk. Sometimes a part of me kind of liked the possibilities of he was just a jerk."

"Why?"

"Fooling around with pretty virgins is a good way to get lynched. People are a lot more tolerate when the woman's a little shop worn." He explained.

He was admitting he had been attracted to her! She had experienced teenage boys crushing on her before. Daniel Bernstein had been the most prominent of those and her memories and opinions of him were only slightly less vile than those she held for Bryan. Ham was a completely different situation. This was a man who had seen more than a fair share of the world admitting that he found her attractive and that only a very thin veneer of social rules had ever kept him from acting on it. She had never thought about his face before. He certainly wasn't pretty boy handsome like the guys she crushed on before, but he wasn't a boy either. Han had chiseled features, hard like the weapons so familiar to him, but there was something striking in his face, a complexity she didn't see every day. Yeah, it was intensely more flattering to have him describe lusting over her than a twenty something college guy.

"What did you think when you found out the father of my baby was a Visitor?" she asked.

"That a lizard raped you gave me one more reason to hate them," he said.

She felt strange over the way he was looking at her with the hint of smile on his lips. Usually when Ham smiled he looked scary like he was about to skin someone alive and he would masturbate about it later. This smile was different. For the first time, she could see vulnerability in his face. It warmed his features. He actually looked handsome when he looked human. "How come you never told me this?" she asked.

"I had a war to fight," he said.

"Not after Liberation Day. You could have come out to my father's ranch any time." She said.

"Your father could bag his mark at 250 meters. And even though you were the mother of the Star Child, you were still his daughter and a lot younger than me," he said.

"What if I had been older?" she asked.

"What ifs are a waste of time," he said.

She fixed her gaze on him. "No, they're not. They're shades of worlds that could have been. I want to know. If I had been ten years older, would you have come out to the ranch?"

She could see emotion in his eyes she had never seen before. Something deep and long hidden was struggling inside him. "Maybe," he said. His gaze fell away from her for a moment and then he looked up again. "No, not maybe, probably."

Probably. Such a simple word and not even a confirmation of anything really, but it exploded walls. Probably meant he would have tried to see her. Probably meant he would have told he respected her and maybe something else. Something all the other men on earth didn't seem to be interest in where she was concerned. She touched his chin. "I think that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"I'm not nice," he said curtly.

"Yes, you are. You saved my life. You kept me from being raped. You comforted me when I was crying. And then you told me that you thought I was attractive when you first met me, but because I was young and vulnerable you would have never have acted on it. That's really nice." What she did next, she wouldn't have dreamed of doing half an hour ago, but after what he had confessed, it seemed the most natural thing in the world. She put her arms around his neck. "You are a very nice man, Ham Tyler." She whispered and then kissed his check.

He pulled away an inch or two. She could see his eyes. They were amber orbs. His hands tilted her face upward and he kissed her back on the lips! She remembered being kissed by Bryan. Even when she wanted it, the kiss still felt like something slimy had invaded her mouth. It had been the same way with John. That should have tipped her off. Ham's kiss was different. When his tongue slid between her lips supernovas exploded behind her eyelids. Her body plunged into a fiery chasm than sprang back up propelled through the atmosphere out into the airless expanse of the void. She was floating and his arms caught her. His strong arms seemed made to hold her, but he stopped kissing her. His arms left her back. He laid her against the wall and when he finally spoke stretched out each word to its limit. "Do not do this because you think you have to."

She reached for him looping her arms around his neck. "I'm not. You don't think I'm a whore because of Bryan and John?"

"No."

"You don't think I'm a monster for killing Bryan?" she asked.

He shook his head. "He needed killing."

"Then I want to be with you." She kissed him, first his check, and then his mouth. His mouth didn't stay closed for long. Lightening rippled down her back. His left arm went back around her, so strong, but not confining. He reached for the light and suddenly they were wrapped in darkness. "Why did you do that?" she asked.

"I work better in the dark." His voice was different. Deep, but less harsh, it warmed her like the vodka. She felt his lips. He was smiling. He certainly didn't do that often, at least not pleasant smiles. She heard the sounds of buckles and a zipper being undone, boots dropping on the floor and he ripped open a Velcro fastener. He did all that without taking his arm way from her back. Then two warm, muscular arms surrounded her. His mouth was on hers again. She was still from the first kisses, but she didn't want him to stop. Warm tingles invaded every crevice. She didn't ever want that to stop.

"You taste better than I imagined like watermelon on a hot day or fresh honey," he said.

Who was this man? He didn't sound like Ham Tyler. He didn't act like him either. She became aware that he had lifted her T-shirt over her head and was suddenly glad for the pitch-black darkness around them. He picked up her breasts. Her nipples felt like two hot little coals burning away all the coldness in her body, so nice, but she didn't like what sometimes happened next. "Don't bite?"

An uncomfortable silence followed. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't like being bitten there. It hurts too much." She explained.

He caressed her nipples. That felt really good. Tingling shivers shot down her chest.

"Did one of them bite you?" he asked.

She wanted to just nod, but realized in the darkness he couldn't see that. "Bryan did. I asked John not to, so he didn't. Maybe it's a Visitor thing."

"That wasn't a Visitor thing. That was a sexual sadist thing." He eased her down unto a pillow. "It feels good if it's done right."

"Done right?"

"Yeah, like this." He continued massaging her left breast. She felt a cushion of wet silk rubbing against her other breast. That was his tongue! Then his mouth surrounded the nipple. He rolled the sensitive little button against his lips and very gently started to suck. The fire that had been growing in her belly spread its tentacles out to all her extremities. Warmth flooded her senses. Done right it certainly did feel good. So good, she couldn't stop murmurs of pleasure swelling in her throat. If Ham noticed the noise, he didn't react except to move over to the unplundered breasts. His hands roamed lower on her body to the soft places she did not often touch. And apparently she hadn't known as well as he did how to touch her body there because the reactions he was producing, it was astounding. All the heat seemed to pour into her sex. But it wasn't enough to stop the cravings. Tingling jolts of electricity plagued her now. She wanted more. She needed something to satisfy growing hunger for pleasure. Ham's voice came through the steamy fog.

"How was that?" he asked.

"I feel hot and restless," she murmured.

"Perfect."

She felt him move away only by a few inches, but it wasn't good, not when she wanted him so much closer. She tried to reach for him, but didn't know really where he was. He grabbed her hand and kissed the knuckles. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Putting on a condom," he said.

"Thanks." She knew he was probably use to condoms from avoiding diseases during his soldier of fortune days. Still, it was gallant that she didn't have to ask him to use birth control.

"You don't have to thank me for not being a jerk," he said.

A moment later he was back on top of her warm and ready. He massaged her legs further apart and then she felt his hard manhood against her thighs. It wasn't like with Bryan or John. Their bodies had felt wrong down there and she had come to realize that wasn't her inexperience. She wasn't even certain what male Visitor sex organs were like, but even wrapped in fake flesh they weren't conductive to a human woman's pleasure. He entered her slowly giving her time to adjust she realized and pulled her into a firm embrace at the final inch.

"Mm, you feel nice," he whispered.

She should say something, right? But she didn't know what to say. She never imagined having sex with Ham Tyler or that he could be like this in bed. Tender, passionate, he had said more to her in few minutes of foreplay than any boyfriend ever. She should respond, but when she opened her mouth he kissed her. His tongue started to probe her at the same rate his manhood did. Friction sizzled between their bodies. They coasted on waves of pleasure. The murmurs in her throat became moans and Ham told her not to stop. She dug her fingernails into his back and tasted the sweat on his shoulder. Suddenly, the world stopped. A surge of pleasure riveted her to the bed and she couldn't move. Truly, nothing in the world could feel as intensely wonderful as her body did at that moment. She was vaguely aware of Ham kissing her chin and then collapsing into the pillow by her head. It wasn't until the pleasure had completely ebbed away that she realized he was no longer inside her.

"Still hot and restless?" he asked.

"No, satisfied and sleepy," she said.

He pulled her closer until he had one arm completely around her back and her head was lying on his chest. It wasn't like she had imagined lying on a pillow after teenage dreams of rock stars and famous actors. His skin was hot and hairy and she could feel the muscles underneath. A rough ridge was under her check. She realized it was probably a scar. Still it wasn't unpleasant to be held this way just not what she expected.

"It's my turn to thank you," he said.

"Why?" She asked.

"That was great," he said.

The night was nothing, but surprises. "Really?"

In the pitch-dark blackness where she couldn't see her own hand in front of her face let alone the expression on his face, his voice became velvet. "Really."

Again she didn't know what to say. What was the proper after sex etiquette? Did she even care? She moved up and kissed his check. "You're welcome. You're my first human." For a moment, it felt like he shivered. Then his arms tightened around her. She heard him say her name, but nothing more. "What were you going to say?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said.

She kissed his chest. His male nipples were only a few inches from her lips. She wondered if he was as sensitive there as she was and touched the tip with her tongue. She felt him buck up at the touch, but realized it wasn't a bad thing. "I want to know. Tell me."

"You're the first woman since my wife I haven't paid for," he admitted.

"Does that mean I'm special or stupid?" she said.

"It means you're Robin. The rest of them, I don't remember their names."

She felt him kiss her forehead. It wasn't arousing, but it wasn't like a kiss from a friend either. It was comfortable lying on him even with chest hairs and scars pressed against her check. _I'm Robin! Not the girl that got raped by a Visitor. Not the mother of the Star Child. Not martyr Dr. Robert Maxwell's daughter. I'm just Robin to him._

"Can you sleep like this?" he asked.

"Uh huh," she replied. The day was finally catching up with her and she was exhausted though she did enjoy some of the exhaustion. At the very least, exhaustion held fear at bay and she didn't think about the danger they were in. And when another worry rose up to confront her, whether or not she had just made another serious lapse in judgment with a man, she pushed it away. She would face the consequences tomorrow. For now all she wanted to do was feel safe in his arms.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Robin spent the next day with the biker women. They were less scary than their men, but just barely. Still they treated her with a sort of respect; at least no one insulted her. Apparently being Tyler's woman was enough to earn their acceptance. The work wasn't hard. Sorting, inventory, and packing, she could do that in her sleep which unfortunately made it too easy for her to think about what had happened between Ham and her the night before. Last night he had been her perfect lover and this morning she had woke up alone. Of course, he came back to the room eventually with scrambled eggs and toast, told her to get dress, and left her with the biker women. He did kiss her when he left her at the storage area, but they were in front of an audience of people who had to believe they were a couple. And she had overheard the biker women talking about food shortages in Tucson. Eggs were in very short supply. But other than that he acted like nothing had happened between them last night.

"You do that good. You been in this long?" a woman said as they had finished the medical kits.

"My father was a scientist. We went underground early," Robin explained.

The woman nodded and held out her hand. "I'm Solange Morales. Chuy Morales's old lady."

Chuy was the biker that wore the lizard skin, but Solange looked normal. She was a few years older than Robin, black hair and brown eyes, but except for the biker tattoos would have looked like any woman in LA. She shook Solange's hand. "I'm Robin." Should she use her real last name? Probably not, even here they might recognize her by her full name and she didn't need that kind of attention. "My name is Robin Ty. . . "

Solange cut her off. "I know. You're Ham Tyler's old lady. Everybody's been afraid of bothering you."

Alarm bells went off inside her head. "Why?"

"Because your man is scarier than the lizards," Solange said.

"He's good to me," Robin said.

Solange nodded in approval. "That's what counts. You got any kids?"

"I have a daughter. Ham's not her father, but he treats her well." That was no lie. Ham had always been kind to Elizabeth. She noticed Ham on the edge of the supply area.

"Looks like someone doesn't like you away from him for too long," Solange said.

"I better see what he wants," Robin said.

"He probably wants quickie. Enjoy it. After a few years these guys are more interested in how their meals are cooked then being with you." Solange replied.

Robin noticed Ham had his backpack and was carrying a few other things. "Are we leaving?" She asked.

"Everybody is. Supplies are running low in Tucson. The bikers have convinced the occupation government they should be allowed to move into some abandoned farms." He explained.

"Can they farm this time of year?" she asked.

Ham shrugged. "They're going farther than that, up into the mountains." He handed her a coat. "Here, you'll need this. Sorry, I couldn't find you any boots."

She unfolded the coat. It was military green, but had a London Fog label on the collar. And it looked new. Of course, coats probably weren't high demand items in Tucson. "Thanks. I don't think I'll need boots. My sneakers are pretty comfortable."

"Once we get passed the farms, we abandon the really gas-guzzling vehicles. You're going to have to walk awhile and there is snow in the mountains. If your feet start feeling numb, tell me immediately." He said.

"I can hack it. I survived a Visitor internment camp." She said.

"You didn't go through winter at that camp," Ham replied.

The trip up the mountains was harder than she expected. Once they got into the mountains Tucson's blazing heat was forgotten. It was winter in the Rockies in all it's howling, freezing, Visitor repelling glory. But each step sent icy blades though her feet as the wind shoved her from side to side. Even though she wasn't carrying anything after a few hours her legs felt like lead. Without warning she was hauled off the ground. Her head nearly slammed into the barrel of the AK slung over Ham's shoulder.

"Put me down!" she screamed.

"You're about to collapse," he said.

"I can walk!" She tried to push his arms away, but he was iron.

"Shut up or I'll spank you," he barked.

Despite the wind, she distinctly heard a biker Atta-boy Tyler over the threat. Spank her! The jerk! Why was she such an idiot where men were concerned? Why had she let him have her last night? He was a jerk, a jerk that was carrying her uphill through snow with a full backpack and a rifle on his shoulders, but still a jerk. Oh, she wanted to scream except she was exhausted and scared and the only thing keeping her sane was knowing that even though Ham was a jerk as long as he was with her, she was safe. The rest of the march was hazy. They plodded on for hours. The wind never let up. The freezing air gave way to something a little less cold and she could smell straw. Ham laid her down onto a surface that seemed more comfortable than the ground, but by the time she was fully alert night was all around. She was lying on straw. She reached out and found icy metal on one side. Her sneakers had been removed and there was a hot water bottle against her feet. Two blankets had been laid over her. She was still cold, but not freezing. Okay maybe he wasn't completely a jerk.

A light pierced the smoky darkness and she saw Ham. He had a flashlight and metal bowls. "Where are we?" she asked.

"The biker's mountain camp. The Red Dust still works up here. The cabins don't provide much protection from the temperature, but it's well camouflaged from the air." He handed her a canteen. "This has been twice filtered and boiled."

It was just sweetened water, but she drank it ravenously. Their rations were cornbread and brown gravy, but neither of them spoke until completely emptying the bowls.

She broke the silence. "How long will we be here?"

"Depends on how the world is in the morning. At the worst, if we're here for a while. There's food and it's safe." He hunched down in the corner opposite her straw pile, bundled up in his jacket, and snapped the flashlight off. Even though the cabin was warmer than the outside, she knew he would be shaking before morning.

"You don't have to do that. Huddling under the blankets together would keep both of us warm." She offered.

He turned the flashlight on again. His expression was serious, but somehow not as hard as she was use to seeing. "Robin, I get under the blankets with you it will be to do more than huddle."

He was direct, but he wasn't crude either. It was almost romantic, at least as romantic as a man like Ham could probably be. And it was the most romantic thing a man had ever actually said to her. He was asking. And last night, last night had exorcised the demons Bryan and John left in her mind. She final understood why some women glowed over breakfast and why her youngest sister had been born twenty years into her parent's marriage. She definitely wanted to experience more of those sensations. "We can share blankets."

An incredibly sexy smile spread across his lips in the half second before he switched off the flashlight. Once again he was a different man in the darkness. His mouth, that she was so use to seeing snarl or shout, glided against her skin. Hands that ripped away lives, human and Visitor alike removed her clothes more delicately than she could under the blankets.

"You are good with your hands in the dark," she said.

"Land mines," he replied.

'What?" she asked.

He kissed her full on the lips. Somewhere she had read that mercenaries didn't kiss women on the lips because of too many years of banging prostitutes. Was that a sign that she meant more than sex to him?

"Sometimes crossing a field, I encounter landmines. The only way to move on is to defuse them in the dark."

Was her bra a landmine to him? Her certainly removed it quick enough and her breasts were free for a moment until his hands captured them. He knew exactly how to touch her. She didn't want to know where or how he had acquired that expertise. Then he slid lower replacing hands with lips and the cabin wasn't cold anymore because warmth blazed through her body. He didn't stop there. He moved even further down her body until his mouth was touching her in that special space even the few males that had been in her life had never touched with their lips. This was the way men in romance novels made love! Pleasure rippled through her in waves until one sweet intense burst turned her bones to jelly and comets streaked behind her eyelids.

"That was great defusing." It was suppose to sound clever and sexy, but the minute the words escaped her mouth she felt stupid.

"That wasn't defusing. That was priming. Besides some things are their own rewards." In the dark his voice was a caress. "Feel how much I enjoyed it?" He put her hand over his erection. She thought of iron covered in velvet and his skin was so boiling hot there it didn't seem like there was any cold left in the room. He nibbled on her ear while he stroked the tender fire below until despite the pleasure that had already happened, she craved even more. She wanted him like she wanted the water and warmth earlier. She closed her hand around his manhood and squeezed lightly in romance novels that was always a turn on for men. A growl came from Ham's throat. For once the books were accurate. He pressed her down onto the straw and spread her legs so gently she forgot about Bryan and John's jolting grabs. She didn't think about anything, but her burning desire for this one man who didn't think it was her fault she got raped and didn't think she was a monster for killing her rapist.

"You're so soft," he said.

"So are you," she whispered back.

"What?"

He sounded generally surprised and a little shocked. That hadn't been the right thing to say at all. She had to move fast or ruin the moment forever. She rubbed her hands all over his chest. "Soft, warm skin. A man's body, not a lizard with fake skin over his scales."

"I wondered. Couldn't ask last night, but I wondered." He said.

She clinched her knees against his sides. "You feel better, so much better than one of them. I think you're bigger down there to."

He laughed. "You're going to have my ego writing checks my body can't cash."

"You can cash them. I know you can."

It felt like they were fusing together. She didn't know what his body looked like, but her fingertips explored every inch of his chest and shoulders, every curve of sinewy muscle and every line and dip that was probably a scar. Maybe tomorrow he would let her explore him in the light. She got it that he was scarred, but somehow his scars felt good against her skin. She wanted to know everything about the source of all this pleasure that pummeled her senses until she couldn't think of anything except maybe if they could harness the power of sex they could solve all the universe's energy problems. Afterwards, desire satiated he still laid with her, limbs entangled like lovers and he still caressed her body. Words tumbled from his mouth she had never imagined him saying

"Your breasts are two gazelles that feed among the lilies," he whispered as his fingers played with her nipples.

She stroked his biceps. "That so doesn't sound like you."

He kissed her neck. "It's from the bible. My father was a minister. The Song of Solomon was the closest I could get to _Playboy_."

She had to giggle because even at such an intimate moment, the image of a teenage Ham Tyler searching the bible for erotic passages, it was just hysterical. Apparently, he agreed, at least he didn't seem offended. Instead he kissed her slowly thoroughly exploring her mouth as if he were somehow gathering intelligence in the process.

"You want more?" His voice was as deep as the night around them.

"Yes please."

One hand swept down her body. "Your belly is a sheath of wheat finest of the harvest. Your navel a pomegranate." He tickled her belly button then moved on. :"Your hips flow like the garden curtains of Solomon." With the next phrase his lips touched her ears as he spoke. "And between them a sacred grove." He kissed her again. "Nah, a temple, where a man can find paradise. Robin, I want to have you again. Will you let me make love to you again tonight?"

She stroked the muscles closest than moved her hands downward. "It's sweet that you always ask. I like that."

"The last woman that called me sweet was my grandmother," he said. He teased her with his fingers."

"After carrying me through the mountains, how do you still have so much energy?" she said.

"You inspire me," he replied.

"Nobody has ever said that about me," she said.

"They will when they write the history of this war. What you survived gave the world the Red Dust. Of course, the inspiration I'm having right now has nothing to do with heroic sacrifice." He kissed her gently. "I want you, but I don't want you waking up sore tomorrow either."

She pulled him closer. "I don't think that will happen. Make love to me."

After that she was lost to the sensations again. At least, it felt like making love to her instead of just sex. Ham had called it making love. Hopefully that meant something.

When she woke up the next morning, her clothes were fastened properly on her body. Her inner thighs didn't feel wet and sticky. He had obviously cleaned her up at some point while she too tired to even care. She sat up. The cabin was just a corrugated metal shed! There was one window letting in light. The glass was broken and patched back together. Back in California this would be a tool shed. It probably was a storage shed now. The only thing inside was the straw that had been their bed last night. Yet, it had been romantic or at least erotic last night. At the very least, she didn't regret having sex with Ham. She moved over to where he was sitting. All his attention was focused on a basket of straw and twigs. She laid her chin on his shoulder. His head swiveled back toward her in an instant, but once he saw her he didn't react further. "What's that?" she asked.

"SAS fish trap," he replied.

She noticed there was pile of them at his side. "Have you been making those all morning?"

"Yep, the bikers can fix machines in their sleep, but they need help in finding protein," he explained.

Someone rapped on the door. Her legs felt stiff from the cold, but when she opened the door the outside air didn't freeze her. Solange was in the doorway. She held out an orange Western shirt. "Hey, Robin, what do you think? Is orange your color?"

It actually was a nice shirt and she didn't have any clothes other than the ones on her back. "I don't have anything I can trade for it," Robin confessed.

"How about several hours of back-breaking work?. Now that the storm is clear, there's enough to sun to do laundry and there's tons of it. I'll throw in some jeans." Solange offered.

Robin glanced back at Ham.

"Have fun," he said.

_Yeah right, boiling water and ringing out laundry by hand was fun_. But she did need a change a clothes and the Old Lady of the head biker would probably be a good friend to have in the camp. She decided not to reply and went outside to join Solange.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Ham watched Robin hanging clothes with the biker girls and bit his cheek to suppress a smile. She made him feel good which was dangerous. He had a war to fight and she was just a kid. Of course, she had been through more than he had survived at the same age. But he shouldn't have had sex with her the last two nights. He should have kept his penis in his pants and his memories in his head. Not that he had lied to her. He had been attracted to her back in the early Resistance days. Any heterosexual man would have been, but it never would have gone beyond the standard masturbation fantasies because he didn't ruin young girls. However, when he watched her ice that lizard scumbag, it felt like he was looking at a kindred soul. Finally, somebody in the LA Resistance didn't apologize about hating the enemy and wasn't afraid to repay them crime for crime, or at least as close as she could get. Later when he remembered how he first saw her tutoring her sisters in the cafeteria things had got more complicated in his head. He remembered the light he saw in her eyes that day, how he thought she would probably taste like sugar, but he also remembered the smile on her face when she dropped the Red Dust and knew liquid nitrogen ran in her veins when it came time to kill. Sometimes he had been tortured by a dream of an older Robin, a woman that he talked with before that night, so that when she dropped the dust he walked out and congratulated her on the coup. In the dreams her eyes filled with light again and they had sex in the lab while the lizard died. It made for sticky sheets, but since that night he had thought about Robin Maxwell a lot.

Yeah, after Liberation Day if she had been ten years older, his security firm financially solvent, he would have showed up at Dr. Maxwell's ranch. He would have taken her to some of the restaurants in LA where reporters were excluded like dogs. And he would have told her Elizabeth needed a stepfather that could keep the press out of their lives. But that wasn't the world he woke up in this morning. It wasn't as bad a world as it could have been waking up in an icy metal shack in the middle of a biker camp. She had been a pre-Raphaelite angel lying on his chest. And he had really wished the bikers knew how to survive in the mountains because he could have liked to stay that way a little longer.

Life couldn't go on this way however. Relationships with good women weren't options for guys like him. He had learned that the hard way. He would get her to Chicago and he would help her settle in the city. He still had money in accounts there and the government and the World Liberation Front had to give her something. She was Robin Maxwell. Her babies saved the world. He would make certain she got everything she was entitled to. Maybe there would even be time to make some memories to carry him through whatever came next. Then he would go back to the fight where he was suppose to be and she would meet a young World Liberation officer without the wrong kind of past the way her life was suppose to be.

. . . . . .

When Robin walked past the fire, Ham grabbed her and pulled her unto his lap. Was it just a show for the bikers or was that how he regularly treated women? It was possessive, but he wasn't violent about it. He handed her a bowl filled with sweet potatoes, cornbread and charred things. She took a sweet potato.

"We got better rations tonight, potatoes and fish," he said. He broke a piece off one of the charred masses and held it up to her mouth. "You need the protein."

He showed her how to pick the meat away from the bones. It was surprisingly delicious fish, tender with a smoky flavor from being cooked in the fire. Under different circumstances she could really enjoy eating fresh fish around a campfire.

The conversation flowed around her, but she wasn't a part of it. This honestly didn't bother her. They talked about towns to the south emptied out and new explosive cocktails that could bring down Visitor fighter crafts. She still didn't like the way some of the men looked at her. If she hadn't been with Ham, she would have still been very scared. But with him for the first time in many years she didn't feel terrified of what was out in the darkness. Alcohol and marijuana were passed around. Ham declined both, but the man with the bottles froze when he noticed her.

"You're the mother of the Star-Child!" he exclaimed.

All conversation stopped. Flashlights temporarily blinded her until Ham said to shut them off.

"Rusty's right. She's the chick that had a baby with the lizard," Chuy Morales said.

"I was raped," she said.

Ham draped an arm around her protectively. It was an open challenge to any man that wanted to say more.

One biker spoke. For some reason his thick white beard reminded her of a heavy metal Santa Claus. "Where is the Star Child?" He asked that question like a priest invoking the saints.

She thought fast. "We sent her into hiding in the far north where the Red Dust is strong for hundreds of miles."

Murmurs of approval echoed around and the conversation turned back to explosives.

Ham didn't say anything until they were walking back to the shed. "You did the right thing back there. More rumors that Elizabeth had been moved north by the Resistance will confuse Visitor intelligence."

"I should be doing more," she said.

Ham didn't reply. He stopped her at the door to the shed. "Wait here."

She stood outside for a moment wondering what he was up to. A glow started around the shed's door. Funny how the eyes could adjust to tell the difference in even the least amount of light. Ham opened the door carrying a big fat candle. She stepped inside. They had a bed! It even had crates on either side as nightstands.

"It's just a wooden pallet on blocks with a mattress on top, but it's more comfortable than a pile of straw," he said.

She wanted to hug him, but didn't know how he would react. "How did you do this?"

"Passed out a few joints."

"You smoke marijuana?" Of all the things she had speculated about Ham Tyler, that he might be a toker had never occurred to her.

"Weed is currency up here and it's light weight," he explained.

That made sense. She noticed new shapes in the darkness. Ham turned her away from the bed; then, he sat the candle down on top of small table. She saw a large enamel bowl and beside it another crate with towels and what looked like large black water bottles. Civilization.

He picked up one of the black bags. "Hang these in the sunlight and in the evening you'll have warm water. I thought you would prefer this to washing in the river or at one of the pumps."

The thought of putting even her fingertips in that freezing river gave her the shivers. And the pumps were worse. There were just too many men in camp for her to feel safe trying that. This was so sweet, if he was doing it to be nice? Or did he see this as something he owed her for sex? "You didn't get anything for yourself?" she said.

He was behind her now in the darkness where she couldn't see him, but she felt his fingertips stroking her back. His voice curled around her when he answered. "I get to watch."

It was silly to be nervous she told herself. She had already shared her body with him what did it matter if he saw her partially undressed? And with only a single candle it wasn't possible for her to actually see him. Still her stomach fluttered knowing he was somewhere in the darkness, the bed she guessed, watching her. Did he do this with his late wife? He had lived with her in third world conditions. Was he acting out some fantasy about his dead wife? Or was watching a woman washing in candlelight something he enjoyed that he wanted to enjoy with her like a real relationship? If it wasn't so cold, if she had anything remotely sexy to wear to bed, this could be romantic. Unfortunately, her wardrobe choices were limited to the shirt she had worn for three straight days currently drying on the cabin walls and the orange Western shirt Solange gave her. She put on the orange shirt. At least it was a shade that went well with her skin.

He held the covers open for her. She noticed he had taken off his sweater, but wore an unbuttoned shirt. His pants were undone to. She would have liked to see more of his body, but it really wasn't possible for them to shed much clothing in this cold. She sat the candle down on the crate by the bed and climb in. "Did you enjoy your view?"

He leaned over her and snubbed out the candle. Darkness washed over them. "Very much." His hands started to make her body hum. "Hopefully tomorrow I can get some guys to pile sandbags and logs around the walls and ceiling"

"Why?"

"It would make this place warmer," he explained.

She ran her hands down his chest. She wondered if she could make him growl like he had last night. That had been surprisingly sexy and she relished provoking involuntary responses in him. "You're doing a great job of that right now."

He kissed her on the chin. "Yeah, but I can't do this all night. Besides I want to get you on top of me sometimes."

"You like being ridden?" she asked. Her fingers slide past his waistband until she found his manhood. She heard him hiss.

He massaged her breasts with slow, heavy strokes. "Depends on the woman. I bet you would be spectacular." Then he closed his lips around one nipple, sending lightening through her body, until she cried out. "What do you like, Robin?" he asked.

"I like everything you do to me," she admitted, and then regretted confessing so much.

He chuckled. His hands were below her waist now. Their arms and wrists rubbed against each amid caresses and strangely enough that was nearly as interesting to her as the more direct stimulation. She liked the tangled up feeling of so much of his skin and limbs rubbing against her. For a man who had lived such a rough life his skin was amazingly soft. Body contact with him sent electricity all over her.

"What do you like more than you like other things?" he said.

"I like it when you talk to me. You have a very sexy voice," she said.

He groaned. "Ouch. You know that's the hardest thing for a man to do."

She halted her caresses. "Harder than the way I am making you."

He pushed her hands back against him. "Okay, you win. You're breasts are two gazelles that feed among the lilies. Your eyes remind me of the world that was and I want it back. Your skin feels like silk. I thought you would taste like sugar, but instead you taste like honey."

She squeezed him affectionately and got the growls she wanted.

"Robin, if I don't make love to you soon, I'm not going to last," he said.

"Is anything stopping you," she said.

He grabbed her wrists and held her arms flat against the mattress. He started kissing her mouth as he entered her. She basked in the heat from his body and he swept her into a whirlwind. When they had sex she didn't think about the world and all the trouble they were in. Nothing existed except the pleasure between them.

Afterwards wrapped in his arms she thought of something she wanted from him. "I like candlelight. I want to see you naked. I want to see your face when you come."

He kissed the sensitive spot between her ear and neck. "You wouldn't like the view."

"Why? I like the way your body feels."

"I'm old. I got scars from bullets and shrapnel. You got beautiful skin. Smooth. Unbroken." He said.

"I have stretch marks and a scar from C-Section," she reminded him.

She felt his lips at her ear again. Warmth stretched down to her toes.

"Never noticed," he said.

"You would if we had stronger light," she said. She touched the large scar on his face. "Did you get this in a war?"

"Kind of. When I announced I was joining the army, my father and I got into our worst fight ever," he said.

She was puzzled. "But you said your father was a minister?"

"He was. Baptist. He was a controlling jerk also. That fight was the last time we were in the same room together." Ham said.

She had never known him to be this talkative with anyone and even before they had become intimate his past had fascinated her. "And your mother?"

"She had died earlier that year," he explained.

_I lost my mother when I was young also._ No, she wasn't sure how he would respond to that. She chanced another question. "What was she like?"

"A lady with a very self-destructive streak. She really fell from grace when she married my father. I don't even think he could really read. She was the one that taught me the world wasn't made in six days and that there's a lot more of it." He said.

_I wonder what she would have thought about me?_ No, it was definitely too early to say that to him. Ham kissed her forehead. That seemed to be his signal that he was going to sleep now. She reached up and stroke the large scar on his face. "I don't think your body looks that bad."

"We need to conserve candles," he replied.

Their lives fell into a schedule. She spent the day doing camp work with the biker women. Ham tutored the bikers in guerilla warfare, showed them how to winter proof their camp, or hunted. The bikers were learning, but Ham still brought back more game than the rest of them combined. In the late afternoon he taught her how to shoot or clean a rifle or make pipe bombs or whatever in his mind's encyclopedia of destruction he wanted to share with her. Sometimes if there weren't other people around he kissed her during the lessons, nothing heavy, just soft sweet touches when she wasn't expecting them though once they nearly missed dinner. Meals at the camp were always communal. Sometimes they talked the way ordinary people talked at meals. Sometimes Ham was pulled into discussions with others. If the conversations turned to interrogation techniques and Visitor anatomy she fled back to their quarters early. It was easy to stay in their cabin since Ham had rebuilt it with logs and sandbags packed with dirt. At night he became her lover. She had a bearskin for a quilt, a change of clothes, and a pocket comb, but the world seemed wonderful. Except for worrying about Elizabeth she had never been happier. And there was the rub, anytime her attention wasn't fully focused on gutting an animal, practicing with a rifle, or having sex with Ham she thought about Elizabeth. How could she have left her daughter behind in LA?


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Ham found Robin curled up on the bed. She looked like she had been crying. His first thought was their birth control had failed. Okay, he could deal. The timetable for getting her to Chicago would be moved up. He would give her all his money when they got there. And he would find somebody to take care of her when he went back into the war, because if she was pregnant he definitely had to get back to the front of the war. Except talking didn't come easy for him. He sat down. "What's your problem?"

"It's nothing." She started to get up.

He pulled her back down. "It looks like something." _If you're pregnant, I'll take care of both of you_.

She wiped her eyes. "Another woman asked me about Elizabeth today and I repeated the same lie we've been telling everybody that we sent her North to safety. But I can't stop thinking about the truth anymore. Oh god, I'm such a horrible mother."

"You're not a bad mother. Bad mothers beat, starve, or sell their children." He said.

"Elizabeth had a twin. I don't even know if that baby was a boy or a girl." She said.

"It was a boy. Father Andrew christened him Benjamin Joseph." He said.

At least, her lips stopped quivering. But her eyes narrowed. He had seen those eyes when she dropped the dust. "How much of my life have you spied on?"

He did not want to dredge up these memories, but maybe it would give Robin some peace. "I wasn't spying. I just happened to be in the lab when it happened. Everyone could tell the baby was dying, so Father Andrew christened him."

"Who choose the name?" she asked.

"Caleb Taylor volunteered to be his godfather. When Father Andrew asked about a name Caleb suggested Benjamin. Elias piped up that was his brother's name. Caleb told him, his brother would want to give the baby his name. He took the baby out of the incubator, held him in his arms, and the Father Andrew christened him Benjamin Joseph. Later he came back to the lab a couple of times, sat by the incubator, and talked to the baby.

"What did he say?" she asked.

"Robin, you don't want to know this," he said.

She grabbed his arms. Her eyes were wet, but her jaw was tight. "Tell me."

So he told her the things Caleb had said. Ham recognized those phrases from his childhood. His father had used them often enough to weld power over weak people. That hadn't been the case with Caleb. Caleb Taylor wasn't a weak man, but he spun out fairy tales of a higher power great enough to make everything better because he wanted to believe that there was something out there who would give love to a dying half-breed rape baby. And it was a beautiful fantasy. "He told the baby, all your pain will end and you'll be in a beautiful place. A man is going to come for you. He'll have dark skin like me and you will both have the same name. He's your god brother and he'll take you to your grandmother's mansion in glory. There they will have everything a little green baby needs to be happy. And eventually everyone that loves you will be there and we'll all live together in paradise."

Robin started crying again, deep racking sobs, and he didn't know what to do accept hold her. If she wanted a rock to cling to, he could be that. Soon enough his shoulder was soaking wet and he didn't like the pit growing in his chest underneath where her hand laid. He also knew just telling her to snap out of it wasn't going to work. Distracting her with sex was an option, but he sensed she would eventually resent it if he did that. Talking was an option he really didn't want to take. She had reopened too many old wounds already and that was really dangerous for both of them. So, he kept it simple, arms against her smooth back, and short sentences. "You survived. That's more than some people."

"I abandoned my daughter."

Her voice was on the edge of breaking. He couldn't let that happen. "You left her with people that could take of her when you had to leave," he said.

"When I had to leave because I was stupid and naïve and let another lizard fuck me,' she said.

"John was good at what he did. None of us realized he was a lizard. What he did to you was rape same as if he held you down and tore off your clothes." He said.

'Plenty of women survive being raped," she said.

"My wife didn't," he said.

She stopped crying. She pulled away from him. Her eyes had grown hard. "Your wife is missing, presumed dead."

He hadn't meant to tell Robin that. He didn't like anybody knowing about his late wife, but when he saw the pain in her eyes he couldn't risk the chance of her breaking. The only thing he could think to tell her was to reaffirm how much she had survived. Unfortunately it meant letting her see the wound. Her gaze shot through him. He tried to look away, but couldn't. Those were the eyes that dropped the dust and now she ripped out his stitches. "That's what I let people think."

She nodded. Amazing! Somehow she understood the significance of what he had told her. _This I'll tell you and no one else in the world. However we share our bodies doesn't mean anything compared to this_. "We were living in Saigon at the time. Another Black Ops guy, he came back from the field one day and wanted to inflect pain on someone and she was there. She thought it was her fault and couldn't live with the memories." He realized Robin's hands had moved upon around his shoulders and cradling the back of this neck.

"What happened to your daughter?" she asked.

He felt a razor cutting his throat as he spoke. "She took her with her. Pills and gas, at least they didn't suffer."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. She kissed his check. "I'm so very sorry."

"Why? There is nothing you can do about it?" All he wanted was for the pain to stop.

She kissed him again. "I'm sorry, I made you remember it again."

There were tears in her eyes again. He realized they weren't tears for herself anymore. It was too much. Under ordinary circumstances he would be running away right now, but in a biker camp the four walls of their cabin was his only sanctuary. He grabbed Robin and kissed her hard until his mouth was full of salt. Luckily she reached for his clothes first before he had to initiate anything and feel like a bastard afterwards. He started kissing his way down her throat pausing once just to be sure. "You don't mind?"

"Don't you dare stop," she growled.

Night was falling, but it wasn't completely dark either. Her eyes swelled like explosions. He had seen that glow when the lizard died only this time that radiance was directed at him. _You understand me. You know how sweet a righteous kill feels_. But he held back from saying anything because it was also possible she didn't feel the same way. He had misjudged people before usually with fatal results. And Robin was young. He was probably just an experiment to her. Her eyes changed again into something more wonderful. Maybe it was because he knew he couldn't stay strong under that gaze too long they moved faster. Blood became nitro and everything burned to ash. But afterwards Robin was silent and usually she liked to talk after sex.

"Was I too rough?" he asked.

"There are bite marks all over your shoulder." She purred under his hand, so he knew he hadn't brutalized her. She moved closer until they were spooned together. He could smell her hair. There was sweat, but also flowers. Moments like this were extremely dangerous. Everything he had done with her for the past couple of weeks was extremely dangerous.

"Can you get me back to L.A.?" she asked.

Maybe safe passage had been all this was about, which would good. It would make both their lives a lot simplier. He brushed back her hair from her forehead and kissed her temple. "Yeah, I can get you back to L.A."


End file.
